Repent, therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be wiped away, and that the Lord may grant you times of refreshment. // Acts 3:19-20 Refreshment sounds invigorating, restful, and renewing. Refreshment sounds both extravagant, like a blissful vacation by a mountain lake, and necessary, like a glass of water on a hot Texas day. My soul yearns for it. Longing for refreshment, I keep going back to what doesn’t satisfy. I know Jesus saves, but I keep scrolling through social media looking for a dopamine rush. I know Jesus’ Sacred Heart burns with more love for me than I’ll ever know, but I keep putting too much emphasis on human relationships to feel loved and known. I know starting my day in prayer connects me with the Lord’s love and will, but I scramble to clean up kitchen messes or pay bills first. Every time I choose something or someone other than God, I turn away from Him. When my priorities are out of whack—a clean kitchen only lasts ten minutes with teenage boys in the house, how fleeting that satisfaction is!—my soul can’t truly be at peace. (Lest this train of thought become scrupulous, I don’t mean to say that any of us must live an austere contemplative life to seek God and avoid sin. On the contrary, I know that He pursues us and delights in us in our ordinary lives. The Carmelites I know will tell you that they, too, live rather ordinary lives, even in their contemplative vocation. Someone has to do the laundry and dishes, feed and walk the monastery dog, and work in the garden.) There’s no quick fix or human love to satisfy what my weak human will craves. The remedy to my cravings and the balm for my weary love-seeking soul is Jesus. Only and always Jesus. He is the one thing necessary. “Repent, therefore, and be converted.” The Sacrament of Confession offers us frequent opportunities for this repentance. I repent to renounce my ignorance once my eyes have been opened. To reject my self-centeredness when I see how empty social media (or any other dopamine-laced habit) truly is. To then return in humility to the Lord and be renewed in His forgiving graces. Once I do that, I find myself more free to gaze at Him and His Sacred Heart. To see beauty and goodness. To be filled with the fire of His love. Seek Him first with me this Easter season. The Risen Jesus has all we can ever ask for, and more. He alone will give our souls the refreshment they crave. {formbuilder:MTAxMDY1}

They scurried about the surrounding country. // Mark 6:55 Imagine having such faith that upon seeing Jesus, you would drop everything to bring your sick loved ones to Him. Imagine having the belief that your loved ones—or yourself!—will be healed, by simply touching the tassels of Jesus’ clothing. Imagine having the faith to recognize the Son of God in your midst. Imagine daring to approach the God of the Universe! Sister, this is what the Lord wants for us! He longs for us to have this kind of radical faith, to recognize Him, to drop everything when He comes, to dare to approach Him with all that we are. This Gospel story is incredible! If you skimmed it, I invite you to read it again. I can’t get over how the people recognized Jesus and how they “scurried about” to bring the sick to Him. I can’t get over the miracle that everyone who touched Jesus’ cloak was healed. Did you catch that part? The people “begged him that they might touch only the tassel on his cloak, and as many as touched it were healed” (emphasis mine, see Mark 6:56). It’s astounding! I want a faith like that. What will I drop to see Jesus? How far will I go to be with Him? When I imagine everything these people dropped when they glimpsed Jesus, I know I have a long way to go in loosening my grip on worldly matters. When I realize that the people immediately recognized Jesus, I wonder if I, too, recognize Him, or if my life is too full for me to even look up. There’s a part of my life the Holy Spirit has been gently nudging me to prune. He knows I can’t scurry about the countryside if I’m overly concerned with task-completion, glued to glowing screens, and distracted from prayer. If seeing Jesus is what I desire, I need to let go. I need to let go, and look up to see Him. Sister, taking even five minutes to pray in front of the Eucharist is a life-changer. Join me today in letting go and looking at Him?

"Can anything good come from Nazareth?" Philip said to him, "Come and see." // John 1:46 My teenage son wanted to DIY a costume last year. Usually I’m all in for a good homemade costume; they’re fun and inexpensive. What is there not to like? Plenty in this case, I can assure you. Knowing my son’s temperament, slight perfectionism, and inclination to frustration, I was more than hesitant about this project. Even with my hesitation, I wanted to support my son’s idea and his determination. We gathered supplies and set up the sewing machine so he could begin. My son sat at the table, I stood over his shoulder, talking: “First you’re going to need to adjust this setting . . . . The lever is there. . .” until I realized that just telling him the steps was not nearly as effective as showing him. “How about I show you first?” I offered instead—wondering why I’d agreed to this. Showing my son how the machine worked was much more effective than merely telling him what to do. He could watch my hands guide the fabric and see the machine in action, learning from my example better than if I’d only spoken to him. And to my surprise, he brought his idea to fruition with only a little frustration involved. There’s something special about seeing that makes an incredible difference in our experiences. There’s also something about a personal encounter that makes seeing lead to believing. Imagine if Philip didn’t bother with Nathanael after he expressed his disbelief (attitude?). Or imagine if Philip lived in our time and only used his social media accounts to talk about Jesus, never extending an invitation to “come and see.” I have to wonder if Nathanael would have met Jesus at all. Sister, our interactions matter as much as our words matter. Both need to proclaim the truth about God’s love. Who in your life is like Nathanael? Pray for the Holy Spirit to work through your life, so that through you others may know the love of Christ.

Therefore the Lord himself will give you this sign: the virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel. // Isaiah 7:14 “Oh man, that’s the end of the Old Testament,” my nine-year-old son lamented. He’d been reading a graphic-novel-style children’s Bible and had just finished the last pages of the Old Testament. He enjoys the action-packed stories in the history of God’s people best. I’m the opposite of my son. Aside from the Psalms, I’ve never been drawn much into the books of the Old Testament. At times I’ve wondered if I “need” to know the Old Testament. Jesus fulfilled everything, so isn’t it good enough for me to know Him? I once also held the unspoken opinion that “I go to Mass, I don’t need to read the Bible too.” Yet by ignoring the Scriptures, I limit my understanding of God’s plan. In giving little to no attention to God’s Word, I limit myself to even hearing Him when I pray. How can I possibly hear the Lord if I haven’t paid attention to His Word and become acquainted with His actions throughout time? When I read the prophecy—clear as day—spoken to Ahaz in today’s First Reading, I thought of my son’s delight in the Old Testament. Followed by the Gospel when Saint Joseph received the message in his dreams (see Matthew 1:20-24), my eyes were opened to how beautifully the two testaments reveal the Lord’s heart to us. A faithful Jewish man after God’s heart, Joseph would have known of the prophecy. He knew the Lord’s voice and was prepared to follow, even immediately upon waking from a dream! What a gift to have both the Old and New Testament, to see how God has been working throughout all of history to reveal His plan of salvation, to prepare His people–like Saint Joseph–to receive and say yes to His plan. That’s how well I want to know the Lord’s voice so that without a doubt I know God is speaking to me. Will you join me in a renewed commitment to reading Scripture and listening to the Lord’s voice? Saint Joseph, pray for us as we learn to listen and follow in faith as you did. [bctt tweet="Say yes to His plan. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“Love your enemies and do good to those who hate you, and lend expecting nothing back.” // Luke 6:27-38* For years I thought I had sacrificial love figured out. From summers of mission work to life as a military wife and mom, I could “do” sacrifice. I shared my life with babies in pregnancy and nursing. I have dropped plans to bring much-needed items to my husband’s work or to purchase last-minute school supplies. I have changed plans, given up sleep, and even put my own desires on hold. Yet I look back, wondering how many times I woke up begrudgingly. Too often have I driven with a bad attitude because someone made us late or grumbled about those last-minute errands. There’s also that bad habit of snapping at my kids’ sass with my own snark, which pits us against each other rather than strengthens our bonds. Snark and bitterness leave no room for love to flourish or be poured out through sacrifice. They are ugly fruits, not the fruits of a heart growing in the kind of love Jesus invites us to live. I still have a long way to go in making a true gift of self as the Lord desires. Today is the feast of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, a noblewoman who was married at a young age, yet used her position in society to serve the poor. Biographies reveal that she had a happy marriage, loved her husband and children, and was supported by her husband in her generosity. I’m inspired by her life and look to her for her intercession and example of loving sacrifice. I imagine we all have a bit to learn about sacrificial love, especially the kind that expects nothing in return. Jesus knows this and gave us His life and death as our ultimate example to live as He’s called us to in today’s Gospel. Sister, pray with me today for sacrificial love to grow in our hearts. Through the intercession of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, we ask for our hearts to be united to Christ’s in radical selfless love, so that we will love and serve our friends and enemies alike, expecting nothing in return. * Mass readings for Saint Elizabeth of Hungary [bctt tweet="Expect nothing in return. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“Teacher, by saying this you are insulting us too.” // Luke 11:45 I pictured myself as part of the crowd while I read this Gospel. The Holy Spirit took this opportunity to stir my heart as I reacted to the conversation. I was shocked by the scholar. The audacity to reply in such a bold and self-righteous way. Who did he think he was to speak to Jesus like that? After sitting with the Gospel and pondering my response, I realized that I can relate to the scholar. I cringe with the realization that I too have acted insulted. I too have bristled at the Lord’s words, at the Church’s doctrines, at the precepts which are true and holy. “Why does the Church expect ___ from me?! Those people don’t understand my life. God loves me no matter what . . . .” But woe to me for thinking I’m any better, wiser, or holier than Christ, Who teaches us through doctrines and traditions passed down by the Magisterium of the Church. Woe to me for closing off my heart to the Spirit, Who would increase my understanding and faith if I only but asked for it. Woe to me for my personal dissent, for caving to human weaknesses rather than follow the Spirit in faith and trust. Perhaps it is precisely His loving will for me to feel this way, like a prick to my conscience that self-reflection is needed. I take it as a sign that I need to dig deeper, increase my understanding, and realign my heart with His. In His mercy, God continues to call me out in my selfishness, my pride, my ignorance. God-willing, His gentle yet firm chastisements lead me ever closer to His heart. Sister, if this strikes a chord with you too, take heart. The Lord wants to bear fruit in our lives. He prods our consciences to help us weed out vices and habits which prevent us from bearing true fruit in our lives. Ask Him today to shower you in His mercy, lead you away from sin, and be open to whatever spiritual fruit He wants to grow in your life. [bctt tweet="The Lord wants to bear fruit in our lives. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

Lead a quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity. // 1 Timothy 2:2 I run a small business from home and am a homeschooling mother, so I don’t leave my work “at the office,” ever. My “to-do” list bleeds from one day to the next. Something is always unfinished: housework, emails, in-progress writing projects, papers to be graded, grocery lists to be made. And somehow I’m supposed to rest on the Sabbath and lead a tranquil life as Saint Paul wrote to Timothy (see 1 Timothy 2:2). Lord, how do I find rest when work is all around? Maybe you can relate to the feeling that all the balls will drop if you hit the pause button to rest. Maybe you feel like Sunday is “the only day to get x, y, z done” because every other day is maxed out with appointments, errands, and urgent tasks. Instead of fully resting on Sunday, instead of surrendering to the gift of quiet and no work, I sometimes feel stir-crazy and anxiously await the end of the day so I can attack the to-do list all over again. Even when night falls, I sit in bed far past my bedtime, typing—not resting or even praying a nightly examen. I prolong my exhaustion to get something else on my to-do list done, striving too long and hard for a sense of self-accomplishment. A whisper from the Holy Spirit unveils this scene from another angle: I’m rejecting the gift of rest that the Lord has given me. Oooof. Guilty as charged. I don’t need to hustle and get more done. Delaying sleep throughout the week and working on Sunday in favor of completing one more silly task (which the Lord probably hasn’t asked of me) is fruitless. In fact, it may be hurting me by drawing me away from the life of tranquility and devotion He has invited me to live. How might the Lord be nudging you to set aside your to-dos and find rest in Him today? Ask the Holy Spirit to guide you and to increase your devotion to Our Lord. [bctt tweet="Find rest in Him today. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?” Matthew 16:26 While preaching one day, the priest at Mass challenged us with a question, “What if you were given all the best gifts for your birthday, but you didn’t get on your knees and thank God for your very life?” He expounded with more examples, each time ending with, “If you didn’t thank God, you missed the point.” My takeaway: I could gain everything my heart desires (or so I think), but lose my spiritual life because I do not acknowledge the Lord’s gifts and presence in my life. I might be behind the curve here, but I think I’m starting to figure out what it means to “lose my life” for Christ. It’s not as much like martyrdom as I once thought (though the Lord still may call me to be a martyr—may I have courage!). Losing my life for Christ today is an act of the will, moment by moment. The same day this priest challenged us in Mass, I’d nearly lost my cool with my youngest son on the way to Mass. He’d yanked on his carseat straps, making it too tight to buckle. Without the manual handy (or previous experience on this model), I couldn’t quickly figure out how to fix it. I was so ticked off! Faced with this irritation threatening an on-time arrival, I could have thrown my hands up and declared “Fine! We’re not going!” and blamed it on the foolishness of a child. I could have spent fifteen sweaty minutes (Texas heat!) trying to figure out the seat and either have arrived late to Mass or stayed home–angry in either case. By the grace of God, I rejected those visceral reactions in favor of accepting His grace and “plan B” with an old booster seat. We made it to Mass. It’s a small example, but it’s that sort of losing my (sinful) life and denying my selfishness to take up my cross and follow Christ that will one day make me holy. I’m no martyr. So far I haven’t had to defend my faith in the face of terrible persecution or threats to my physical life. But I did turn away from what would have been sinful anger and terrible reactions. Sister, living our faith requires that we live paradoxically: to find our lives, we must first lose them. To follow Christ and find joy: we must carry our cross. I invite you today to offer your gut reactions—those of anger and frustration—to the Lord, and let Him lead with grace towards living with a heart conformed to His. [bctt tweet="To find our lives, we must first lose them. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“What I say to you in the darkness, speak in the light; what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops.” // Matthew 10:26-27 I’ve found Jesus In the darkness, In the aching Under my daily cross. In the darkness, He hears me and Knows me better than anyone. He knows my sorrow, Holds out His hand to balance me, Asks me to give my worry to Him. In the darkness, He waits for me To breathe, To exhale in surrender to His mercy. I’ve found Jesus In the darkness, In the beauty of the stars and planets glowing. He waits for me In that darkness To wake early, To see the gift sparkle, As though just for me. In the darkness— The depths of my heart— He knows my joys And hidden wins. He knows how I delight In roadside flowers And when I rejoice. He knows my heart’s treasures And how I ponder the miracles Worked in the lives of my loved ones. And when He speaks; He pours love Into the darkness, into that void of longing That is the depths of my heart– He speaks And then there is light. And God said let there be light, And there was light (Genesis 1:3). Into the darkness of sin He speaks forgiveness And once again my soul reflects His light. Into the darkness He speaks; He whispers words of love That resonate so deeply in my soul, I know I am loved, I hold hope that will last Through the waves of doubt. He whispers, And I am healed. Into the darkness, Into the silence, He speaks Of Love: “Love one another as I have loved you” (John 15:12) Of Truth: “I am the way, the truth, the life” (John 14:6) Of Light: “The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5), “I am the light of the world” (John 9:5). In the darkness Of night and of longing, He always speaks. And He asks me To proclaim what He Filled the ache with: His Love. He calls me To live differently, To love differently, To witness. “What you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops.” Jesus, may my life proclaim Your love. [bctt tweet="Jesus, may my life proclaim Your love. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“[G]o with him for two miles. Give to the one who asks of you, and do not turn your back on one who wants to borrow.” // Matthew 5:41-42 My eyes glazed over in astonishment at the awful events of the reading from Kings. Hopeful to read a better word in the Gospel, I scrolled down for something good from Jesus. “When someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn the other one to him as well” (Matthew 5:39). “Lord!” I prayed, “I don’t understand. What are You trying to teach me?” I’m not a Bible scholar; readings like these stir up confusion in my heart. When Jesus teaches to “turn the other cheek,” I’m not sure what He really wants me to know in 2022. I pray again, “Lord, what are You revealing to me? Show me Your heart, Jesus.” Be generous. Welp, okay, Lord. Surely there is a more theological reading to the Gospel, but as I re-read Jesus’ words, the whisper to my heart continues: “Be generous with your time and your heart. ‘Go with him for two miles. Give to the one who asks of you’” (Matthew 5:41-42). Generosity is a weak area for me. One of my sons consistently shows me what generosity looks like. He loves to share candy, which may not seem like much. In comparison, when my children ask me for a sandwich, I’m more likely to say, “You can make it for yourself!” rather than love them through the simple act of spreading peanut butter and jam for their lunch. Yes, the Lord’s message to me is “grow in generosity, dear Gina.” My heart is small and fickle, and He wants it to be more like His, large, warm, and overflowing. I want that, too. My prayer journal is filled with scribbles and hearts with my longing: “Give me a heart like Yours, Jesus. Teach me to love like You.” Those whispers to me today are answers to prayer. Generosity is what His Sacred Heart wants for me. Whether the rest of the words become clear to me in the future is yet to be seen, but for now, what matters is the whisper and my response to His invitation. What is He asking of you? Sit with this Scripture and ponder this today. [bctt tweet="What matters is my response to His invitation. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

The disciples were filled with joy and the Holy Spirit.// Acts 13:52 I used to read about the joy of the Apostles and wonder if that deep joy was possible for me, too. They were lucky enough to know Jesus, I thought, and the saints who didn't know Jesus personally had great miracles worked in their lives. Of course they're joyful. This joy of the Holy Spirit seemed distant in time, almost unreal. Also this thought ran through my mind: What is joy anyway? Then a more scoffing thought followed with doubt, How can anyone actually be joyful under persecution? And if persecution is part of the Christian life . . . I'm on the fence about living that life. I'm not sure I can handle that, so will I ever be a saint?! This Christian life is a bit of a mixed-bag, wouldn't you say? Rich stories of miracles and forgiveness, and promises of eternal joy in Heaven mingle with lived experiences of suffering, persecution, and even doubts. Heaven often seems distant. Today we continue to celebrate the joy of the Resurrection in the liturgy. I've lived Easter seasons that felt more "Lenty" than joyful, whether my children were ill, my husband was deployed, or some other struggle threatened my peace. Perhaps this year you, too, endured struggles which tempt you to wonder if joy is possible, let alone real. But the joy of the Resurrection is for you, especially today. During this season characterized "by the joy of glorified life and the victory over death," (reference) we rejoice that Jesus Christ is ALIVE and with us. We rejoice that these struggles don't have the final say because Jesus won. Jesus won for me and for you. I've leaned into His promise and the hope that Heaven is real, that His love is real. He has sustained me through trials and wiped away my tears (Revelation 7:17). This is possible for you, too! He loves us so and holds us in His saving hands (John 10:28). Let us pray together today that we'll rest in Jesus' love, in His hands. This is where joy originates, and this is the joy that sustains us. Christian joy comes from placing ourselves in the hands of the Lord Who loves us and shepherds us every moment. [bctt tweet="Joy is for you. // Gina Fensterer " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Even though I walk in the dark valley I fear no evil; for you are at my side." // Psalm 23:4 News headlines and video clips run through my social media feed, most depressing, divisive, or confusing. A virtual valley of darkness threatens to close in on me. I feel defeated, hopeless, trapped in my circumstances. I've felt my heart pounding and my chest tighten in anxiety and desperation. I've cried until tissue boxes were empty. I've fallen asleep at night, weary from carrying the burdens of my family and worries about the world, not knowing how to face the unknowns of another day. Raise your hand if this is you, too. Sister, let me extend a virtual hug to you. Hope is not lost, and you're not alone. "Even though I walk in the dark valley, I fear no evil; for you are at my side," the Psalm boldly proclaims. I don't pretend to know how you're feeling today. Some things are nearly impossible to figure out, and without the Lord's promise of hope, some of them would be impossible. I've been there, facing broken relationships, not knowing how to help a child in despair, feeling trapped by leaders making poor decisions. "I will fear no evil, for the Lord is at my side," I pray with the Psalms. These dark days have brought me to my knees, surrendering to the Lord when there was nothing else I could do. And it was then that I found His hand and got up to take the next (trembling) step in defiant hope. The Lord was and is at my side for every moment, with every sob, with every desperate cry, "How, Lord?!" And yet I've experienced how He dispels darkness and fear. In surrender to His care, I have found hope. He leads me each moment of the day, towards greater light and freedom. He has worked healing in my family, physically and spiritually. He has protected us and provided for us in tangible ways. He has kept me in His light. Today, pray with the Psalms and ask Jesus to fill you with His light and hope, to show you in an unmistakable way that He is by your side in whatever you face. [bctt tweet="Hope is not lost. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

[I]f the prophet had told you to do something extraordinary, would you not have done it? All the more now, since he said to you, ‘Wash and be clean,’ should you do as he said. // 2 Kings 5:13 You know the saying, "Pics or it didn't happen!"? Within it are layers of meaning, including a sense that if you can't show something for what you've done, it didn't count. Take it further: without social-media worthy photos, did you even try? I started blogging over a decade ago, and I've seen (and been influenced by) the pressures to have perfectly-staged but candid photos. I strived to show what an idyllic day I had with my kids, to highlight the romantic date with my husband, to tell the story of an exquisite brunch with friends. I worked angles, edited photos, and composed words to turn my ordinary into extraordinary. If it wasn't extra, it wasn't enough, and perhaps neither was I. Like Naaman, who thought the Jordan river was inadequate, I wanted whatever I did to be extraordinary. The ordinary couldn't possibly be enough. Or could it? I found the answer from Saint Josemaria Escriva: "Correspondence to grace is to be found also in the ordinary little things of each day, which seem unimportant and yet have the over-riding importance of Love" (The Forge, 686). The ordinary is exactly what God wants of me. It's in the ordinary moments that God offers me grace and asks me to open my heart to Him. As I lean into this grace, I let go of the "pics or it didn't happen" mentality more and more. I'm content (mostly) to live the hidden life, doing the simple things well and lovingly, with the goal of home being a refuge of love and joy for my family. Beautiful gatherings and photos to tell the story still delight me, but only as long as I don't let "staged perfection" steal our joy. It matters far more that I do well for my family needs and let God's grace do the extraordinary work. The Lord is calling you and me to something today, sister. Don't let the simplicity of it fool you. Open your heart to the movements of grace in your ordinary day for this is where the Lord wants to do something extraordinary. [bctt tweet="Open your heart to the movements of grace. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

In the house the disciples again questioned Jesus about this. // Mark 10:10 I remember the evening she confessed to having serious questions about God and prayer. In that moment, I felt helpless and sad. Somehow, our efforts to create a prayerful Catholic home didn't prevent questions and doubts (in hindsight, I should have always expected questions). As a result, I wrestled with my own self-doubt. In time and through prayer, I settled on one response: Let her ask all the questions. Walk with her on the way to understanding. Understanding cannot be forced. It is a gift to be used, under the prompting of the Holy Spirit (see Catechism of the Catholic Church § 1266). The entirety of our lives is filled with choices to seek the truth, to relentlessly pursue understanding, and to live according to the truth we find. As the exchange in today's Gospel reveals, even those closest to Jesus "again questioned Jesus" (Mark 10:10). The disciples didn't receive instant understanding by virtue of being one of the disciples. We know that the prophets and disciples questioned, failed to perfectly love, and suffered. We also know that many men and women persevered anyway, and found the Truth and the One they looked for. I find comfort in the examples of the holy men and women who sought truth and found Jesus. James exhorts us to "take an example of hardship and patience" (James 5:10-11) from those who have gone before us. There's a good reason for this, sister. We need to know we're not alone, we need to see that questioning is integral to the journey leading to deeper understanding (when done with proper intentions), and we need to be encouraged by the stories of those who are not so different from any of us. Most of us have bumpy roads towards holiness. This is why we look to those who have gone before, persisted in seeking, and turned to the Lord over and over. What questions are you wrestling with today? Bring your questions to Jesus, as the disciples did. See which Saint you can ask to pray with you and be a companion in your seeking. [bctt tweet="We are not alone. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Go home to your family and announce to them all that the Lord in his pity has done for you.” // Mark 5:19 "Why do we have to go to church? It's so boooorrring. I don't wanna." "Because it's one of the commandments, and Jesus wants to see you! Now hurry up and get your shoes on so we're not late!" Sister, I confess that I have been the speaker of both (and similar) statements above, most recently the latter, exasperated while rushing my children out of the house in less-than joyful ways. And while it is my obligation to both attend Mass weekly and take my children, it's counterproductive to my vocation to be hasty, cranky, and a nag. Maybe I need to implore the Lord to cast the evil cranky spirits from my heart into some outdoors pests to be trampled underfoot. And then. I'll be begging for the grace to be both joyful and humble in sharing—with the very same family I too often nag—all the good that the Lord has done for me. While at first glance it seems easy to "just" go home (a less-than-exciting mission territory) and tell my family about the Lord's work in my life, that is precisely the very place He has called me to witness to His great love. Home—whether with siblings and parents, college roommates, a husband, apartment neighbors, or sisters in the religious life—is where the heart is, and home is where Jesus' love must be known. Whether or not I write for Blessed is She, whether or not you go on a mission trip, whether or not you may freely speak of Jesus in your workplace, Jesus' call applies to me and to you within the walls of our homes. I'm feeling fairly convicted right now to do a solid examination of conscience and go soon to Confession (that nagging habit of mine has to go!), and then it'll be a new day to start again, sharing what the Lord in His pity has done for me. [bctt tweet="Home is where Jesus' love must be known. // Nell O'Leary" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Repent . . . . Come after me." //Mark 1:15, 17 The dishes by the sink, the broken window that needs repairs, the disagreement in the background that too quickly reaches whiny bickering status. I snap under the pressure, yelling reprimands throughout the house. The chaos has stolen my faux sense of order, and I've let myself act like a raving lunatic. "Repent." Gradually, the Spirit stirs in my heart, and I realize what I've done. I let the feeling of overwhelm dictate the state of my heart. It was ugly, and I regret behaving so poorly. Several deep breaths and a plea of "Lord, help" later, I turn to my kids and apologize. I wonder if Simon and Andrew had already heard any of Jesus' messages urging people to "Repent, and believe in the Gospel!" or if they noticed Him in the distance while they fished. Immersed in their work, distant from the shore, I wonder if Jesus' voice startled them. Certainly they weren't expecting a personal call from the Messiah. That personal call changes everything. Jesus doesn't just stand on a mountaintop and shout about repentance with a megaphone. He calls you and me individually by name, inviting us to come after Him because He longs to walk with us and transform our lives day by day. Sister, Jesus' proclamation of the Good News isn't about calling us out based on our shortcomings. His call to repentance is an ongoing, moment by moment, invitation to a life of healing and joy in relationship with Him. It's for every person, for every situation. He calls us to turn back to Him, to repent, because He cares about all aspects of our lives. Even the smallest of our vices are things He wants to help us overcome. Even the smallest wounds we carry deep in our hearts He wants to heal. Even the occasions I turn my back on grace and let the dishes, bickering kids, and looming deadlines overwhelm me, even then He calls me gently to return to Him, and once again receive His healing love. That, sister, is the personal call to repent and believe in the Gospel. Where is He calling you today? [bctt tweet="He wants to heal. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

Lord, make us turn to you; let us see your face and we shall be saved. // Psalm 80:4 Lord, make me turn to You. I'm tired, overwhelmed, distracted. I’m torn away from You by the noise and attraction of empty promises. The blaring noise of social media and the standards of perfection set by the world leave me feeling empty, alone, unworthy. My heart yearns for You, for Your rest, for Your peace. The needs of the day press upon me, minute after minute consuming my thoughts and stealing my peace. Lord, make me turn to You. I'm weak and pulled in all directions except towards You. Pain and worry, heartache and confusion weigh me down. The needs of the day press upon me, minute after minute consuming my thoughts and stealing my peace. I feel far from You. I cannot reach You on my own. I feel lost trying to find You. Help me once again Lord, in your kindness. I can’t do this life well on my own but with You, I can. Set me on the right path and flood my soul with Your grace and power. Lord, make me turn to You, let me see Your face, save me in Your loving gaze. Care for me, nurturing my life which You have so intricately woven. I know You are always with me; turn my gaze back to You. Restore my hope, my peace, my joy. Nurture my heart in Your loving care. Lord, make me to turn to You. I can't seem to turn on my own. But You can help me, Lord. Turn me to You again and again, never let me go. Give me new life, and I will forever praise Your holy name. [bctt tweet="With You, I can. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion